


London Holiday

by ScullyGolightly



Category: The Fall (TV 2013), The X-Files
Genre: Bisexual Dana Scully, Crossover, F/F, Femslash, Pre-Canon, Pre-X-Files, Punk Scully, Punk Stella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 04:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19311052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyGolightly/pseuds/ScullyGolightly
Summary: Summer of '82, young Dana Scully takes a holiday





	London Holiday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShayITP (greycoupon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greycoupon/gifts).



> I had the honor of having Shayna as my summer exchange recipient. Her prompts were Scully femslash - Scully/Reyes or Scully/Stella (or Scully/OC), AU or pre-XF with a preference for canon or crossover.
> 
> Shayna, I hope you like this. I truly loved writing it for you.

“Dana, I’m not going to say it again. If you want to go you will do so under our conditions.”

 

“But-“

 

“Enough!”

 

Dana Scully huffed and skulked away from her uncompromising parents. Melissa stood in the hallway, a self-satisfied look on her face—not enough sympathy, Dana thought. Hell, she was getting a free trip to Europe out of it, why wouldn’t she be happy.

 

“It’s fucking bullshit,” Dana muttered. “I’m 18.”

 

“You didn’t have the guts to say that to Mom and Dad, though.”

 

“Like I need the ‘as long as you are under this roof, young lady’ talk again.”

 

“Ah, we’ll have fun, little sis, even if I am babysitting you,” Melissa teased and reached out to put her arm around Dana’s stiff shoulders, but Dana swatted her away, heading to her room to pout in private, her hand going up over her shoulder to flip her sister the bird.

 

Dana went over to her turntable, chose a record from the stack next to it, and set it to play, turning the volume up to the max to let the whole house know that she disagreed with its stifling regime. She flopped down on her unmade bed, letting Siouxsie Sioux’s voice wash over her. “So many fools blocking my ma-ma-motion, na-na na-na,” sang Siouxsie, leading Dana to agree, and she nodded her head to both the statement and the music.

 

She would be starting pre-med in the fall and had spent her entire high school career studying and getting good grades. Finally, she was allowing herself to have some fun, a trip to London on her own. Low funds and strict parents had now forced her to have her sister as a travel companion with the added condition that they stay with their Aunt Olive for a week at her farmhouse in Kenmare, Ireland. Not exactly the freedom she had been hoping for.

 

A loud bang rattled her door, followed by her father’s gruff voice, “Turn that music down!”

 

Dana ignored him and instead sang along, defiantly, with the rest of the song, then she got up to change the record, choosing another one that would send a message to her overbearing parents. She set the needle in the groove of the vinyl and jumped on her bed mouthing Poly Styrene’s beginning message to the song, directing it at the closed door and to her father, “Some people think little girls should be seen and not heard, but I think ‘Oh bondage, up yours!’” She danced around in a frenzy, trying to shake out all her frustrations, her wild, red hair whipping around.

 

When the frantic song ended, she fell to her bed, pushing her hair out of her face and breathing heavy. Surprisingly, her father had not knocked the door down, and instead let her have her little punk rock tantrum. She felt better after it, though. Switching to more mellow fare, Dana put on her well-worn Joy Division album, lowered the volume a smidge, and sat down at her desk, opening a dog-eared London travel book and went about planning a loose itinerary that now included her sister, making note of good times and places to ditch her.

 

***

 

The Scully sisters had been in London for five days and Dana was burnt out on museums and the energy spent on arguing with Missy about how uninterested she was in doing the whole tourist thing. She had already been dragged to Buckingham Palace, The Tower of London, and the Houses of Parliament. The museums had been cool, The Tower of London, too, but she didn’t know if she could take one more day of staring at old buildings.

 

“What do you want to do then?” asked Melissa. “Walk around the streets with your headphones on all day?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Melissa rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee. They were at the little cafe next door to their hostel. Every morning they would have breakfast there and figure out the plan for the day. Today Dana suggested that they go off on their own. “You wanted to do Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, right? Go do it. Have a blast. You don’t need me to be there.”

 

“What will you do?”

 

Dana shrugged. She liked the feeling of not knowing what the day had in store for her. “Probably like you said. Walk around, listen to music, maybe go read in the park.”

 

Missy sighed and reached for the last piece of toast. They always shared the Full English. “Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

 

Satisfied, Dana smiled, downed her last bit of tea, and scooted the mostly empty plate toward her sister. “Let’s meet back at the room at 5 o’clock, okay?”

 

“What, you’re taking off now?”

 

“Yeah,” said Dana, standing and shouldering her messenger bag.

 

“Okay, just ...just be safe, Dane, please,” Missy called out after to her sister’s already retreating figure.

 

Dana waved her off and she was out the door. A pleasant breeze hit her and so did the freedom. She put on her sunglasses and dug out the Walkman from her bag. It was already loaded with The Specials (Dana had brought primarily tapes of British bands and musicians) and she placed the foam headphones over her ears. The wind sound whooshed, followed by the ominous keyboard notes that began “Ghost Town.” The song was dark yet upbeat and provided the perfect soundtrack as she walked up the street to the entrance of the underground. Dana was headed for King’s Road in Chelsea, an area known to be immersed in the counterculture movement. Light shopping was on the agenda—she hoped to find a few record stores and maybe some cool threads. And there was a park nearby where she thought she would scope out a nice place to sit and read. She had been entirely honest with her sister—she just needed a bit of time to herself.

 

Her afternoon went right as planned. Shopping was successful; she scored Iggy Pop’s Lust for Life and found a second-hand Ramones shirt in good condition and a pair of houndstooth leggings. She stopped for tea—she was addicted to the stuff now—at a crowded coffeehouse and perused the flyers pinned to the corkboard in the back. One caught her eye, a show tonight at a place called The Wag. She wrote down the info on the back of a Buckingham Palace brochure that littered her bag. Hopefully, she could convince Missy to let her go out tonight.

 

After shopping, she had found a shady spot under a tree in Paultons Square and read for a while until she began to drift off—it was her fifth time reading _A Room of One’s Own_ —and she was comforted by the well-known passages and the fair weather; she propped her bag under her head and slept.

 

Dana awoke about 40 minutes later when a gaggle of loud punks walked past. She rubbed her eyes and looked at her watch. Shit. She would barely make it back in time. Grabbing her stuff, she ran out of the park and toward the tube.

 

***

 

“Oh my god, really?”

 

“Yeah, go have fun. Just don’t be back too late. You know I’ll be up worrying.”

 

Spending the day on her own must’ve agreed with Missy. Dana couldn’t believe she was cool with her going out to a club by herself. Maybe she didn’t know the legal drinking age in the UK was 18—surely, that knowledge would’ve raised some concern, enough to keep her from going. Dana didn’t mention it and promised to be careful and back at a reasonable time.

 

Donning her new leggings, a tight maroon tank top, and a worn-in jean jacket (a Missy hand-me-down, in fact), Dana went to the shared bathroom to put on makeup (also Missy’s). She rarely used the stuff, but seeing all those fashionable punk rockers in Chelsea inspired her to do at least a little something. Carefully, she lined her eyes with black pencil, applied some eyeshadow and mascara and lipstick. She wasn’t too fond of Missy’s mauve shade, but it looked decent enough.

 

“Cute,” Melissa said when she got back, and Dana scoffed. “I mean, bitchin’.” Dana made a face at her, but playfully—she was so glad that her sister wasn’t making a fuss about tonight.

 

She slipped into her Doc Marten Mary Janes and stuffed her wallet in her jacket pocket. “Later.”

 

“Bye. Make good choices!” Missy yelled as the door swung shut.

 

The club was packed. Loads of people, lots of smoke, a raucous din over which she had trouble hearing her own thoughts. An opening act was finishing their set on the stage; they were a little too heavy for Dana’s taste so she went to the outer adjoining room with the bar and ordered a beer. A tall man wearing a bowler hat and leather pants, his torso bare and sweaty, knocked into her as she tried to make a space for herself to stand. “Watch it, kid,” he said, patronizingly.

 

“You bloody watch it, old man,” said a voice behind her. Dana turned to see who was defending her. The girl was about Dana’s age, pretty—really pretty—teased blonde hair, but not super teased to the point of being ridiculous; electric blue eyeshadow made her eyes pop, peachy gloss on her full lips. She shot Dana a commiserating look followed by a smile. Dana had trouble breathing. The girl walked on before Dana could respond or thank her. She watched her disappear into the crowd and felt a huge weight of disappointment descend on her.

 

The band Dana had been interested in seeing tonight came onto the stage to rowdy fanfare and she made her way back to the main room in the same direction as the girl. Cocteau Twins hailed from Scotland and they made some regional joke that Dana didn’t get. They were neither twins nor a duo—the group consisted of a guy on bass, another on guitar, and a female lead singer. Her voice was ethereal, and Dana felt she was instantly under their spell, or was it a lingering effect from her encounter with the beautiful and brash blonde from before?

 

After the first song, Dana looked around for her. Her heart leapt when she spotted her and she chided herself on the cheesy idiom, but her heart really did begin to race. She was leaning against a tall bar table with a tumbler in her hand filled with coppery liquid. Dana watched as she slid a heeled foot up her calf to lazily scratch an itch. Her long legs were encased in fishnet stockings, over which she wore a pair of short black shorts held up with suspenders with a threadbare white t-shirt, a lacy black bra showing through the thin material. Dana thought she looked straight out of a fashion magazine.

 

She was intimidating. And yet, Dana’s feet still propelled her forward. Her mouth was dry and she took a swig of her beer. She had never, not once, struck up a conversation with someone at a club, not even at a high school party.

 

“What are you drinking?” Dana yelled over the noise. “I didn’t know what to order so I just got this.” She held up her bottle and shrugged.

 

The girl gave her a quick once over which made Dana self-conscious, but she was eased when she answered, “Whiskey.” She took Dana’s beer from her and set it on the table, then offered Dana her glass.

 

Dana took a rather large sip, swallowing down the fiery spirits and the subsequent cough that was fighting at her throat. “Hoo wow,” Dana rasped, not bothering to try and appear cool. “That burns.”

 

She smiled at Dana, then put her hand up to her neck, her thumb under Dana’s chin, and slid it down to the low scoop neckline of her top. “It feels good once it gets here,” she said, putting slight pressure on Dana’s sternum.

 

Dana nodded, her whole body feeling warm and tingly, and not just from the whiskey. She shifted so she could watch the band and take off some of the pressure of being face to face with this exquisite creature. Noticing that she was still gripping the tumbler in her hand she set it on the table between them, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the girl pick it up, take a small drink from it, and place it back down in front of Dana. “You can finish it off,” she said.

 

“Thanks,” said Dana and she knocked back the rest of it like a shot, hoping to shorten the initial burn of the biting liquor.

 

The band was in the middle of a dreamy and moody tune, the lyrics like poetry:

 

_Stars in my eyes_

_Stars in my face_

_Womb in the belly_

_Capital place_

 

Her drinking buddy pointed up into the air. “It’s my song,” she said.

 

“Really?”

 

“No.” Dana quirked one eyebrow up and the girl shrugged. “My father called me Stella-for-star so I’m gonna make it my song.”

 

“Oh. How funny, my dad calls me Starbuck. So your name is Stella?” Uh oh, she was rambling.

 

Stella nodded. “And you are...Moby? Or Dick?”

 

Dana laughed, her cheeks reddening. “No, Dana. I’m Dana.”

 

“Well, Starbuck, let’s make it our song then.”

 

 _Stars in my eyes, indeed,_ Dana thought and she stared back at Stella, utterly smitten.

 

“Shall we?” suggested Stella, motioning to the dance floor. “It’s our song, after all.”

 

The alcohol had loosened her up and she didn’t feel too awkward dancing to the slower melody; mostly she took cues from Stella’s sultry, slinky moves. And instead of tensing up, like she might’ve if she was stone cold sober, when Stella slid her hand inside her jacket and rested it on her waist, she melted into her, and then they were moving together.

 

Dana was thankful the next song was mellow as well because Stella put her other hand on her and pulled her in close, their hips touching. They swayed, wafted; Dana felt like they were floating—wax and wane, the lyrics of the song.

 

_The devil bites dirty, we wax and wane_

_The devil bites dirty, we wax and wane_

_The devil bites dirty, we wax and wane_

_The devil bites dirty, we wax and wane_

 

Sweet temptation, and Dana swooned. Stella nudged Dana’s cheek with her own, her hot breath falling on her neck. She could feel goosebumps prick up on her skin, and her chest was probably flushed, revealing her physical reaction to Stella and their closeness.   

 

They stayed out on the dance floor together for the remainder of the Cocteau Twins’ set. The faster songs brought them apart at times, but there was always a connection—a touch of a hand, a bump of a hip, a loaded look.

 

Ultravox came out loud over the sound system once the band left the stage, and the dance floor became an unruly mosh pit. The girls weaved through the crowd back toward the bar, Stella leading, her hand holding Dana’s. They shared another glass of whiskey and then Stella mentioned that she was hungry, that they should go get something to eat.

 

The night air was cool and refreshing after being in the stuffy club. They walked up the road to a chip shop and each got an order of chips. “I said I was hungry and I meant it,” reminded Stella. “Can’t share this time, mate.” She added a wink and Dana grinned. She got her money out quickly so she could pay for both of them and Stella let her.

 

“Grease is my favorite post-whiskey snack,” Stella said, popping a golden french fry into her mouth. “Where in America are you from?”

 

“Oh, um, all over. My father’s in the Navy. I live in Maryland now and that’s where I was born. I’m a Navy brat.”

 

Stella frowned. “What a crude term. You’re not bratty in the slightest.”

 

“I’ve never liked being called that, so I’m not sure why I used it just then.” She ate a couple of chips, trying to cover her awkwardness. “What about you? Have you always lived in London?”

 

“I grew up in Surrey. It’s on the outskirts. I’ve got a flat in Willesden now.”

 

“You live on your own?”  


“I have a flatmate, but yeah.”

 

“Do you go to school?”

 

“No, not yet.” Stella paused like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to elaborate. Dana was glad when she continued, she wanted to know everything about her. “My father died when I was 14 and he left me an inheritance but I don’t get it until I turn 20. I’d like to go to university, but I won’t be able to afford it until that kicks in.”

 

“I’m sorry about your father.”

 

Stella shrugged, but in her eyes flashed sadness, pain.

 

“What about your mom? She won’t send you to college?”

 

“My mother is a bloody nightmare. As soon as I was able to I moved out.”

 

Dana suddenly felt horrible for thinking her parents sucked. She had it so good compared to Stella. She made a mental note to show them her appreciation when she got back home.

 

“Are you in school?”

 

Dana nodded. “I start in the fall. Pre-med.”

 

“Oh, medicine. Brilliant.”

 

“What do you want to study?”

 

“Loads of things. Anthropology, art history, criminal justice, women’s studies. I’d get a hundred degrees if I could.”

 

“You have a curious mind.”

 

“I do.” Stella smirked, the heat of her sly gaze searing into her. “I’m curious about you.”

 

“I’m afraid I’m quite ordinary.”

 

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

 

They shared a long look. Dana licked her lips out of shyness, but also desire. She was unable to hold it; Stella’s unwavering poise made her look away and she glanced at the menu board above the register. “Tea,” she said. “Would it be weird if I ordered tea?”

 

Stella chuckled and shook her head. Dana blushed, amazed at how many times Stella could reduce her to blushing in the short time they’d spent together. Time. Dana looked quickly at her watch and was relieved to see it wasn’t as late as she thought.

 

“Need to be somewhere?”

 

“No. I thought it was later. My sister is back at the hostel. She told me not to be back too late. But, I have some more time. Do you want tea? I’m gonna order one.”

 

“Cups of tea are a clock,” Stella said.

 

Dana’s face lit up. “The Raincoats! I love that song.” None of Dana’s friends followed music like she did. To hear Stella quote from a band she loved made her even more enamored of her if that was possible. Then, on an impulse, she softly sang and half-hummed the lyrics of “Fairytale in the Supermarket” with that phrase. “Cups of tea are a clock. A clock, a clock, a clock.”

 

Stella regarded her with awe. And again, Dana was stricken with self-consciousness. Her face was beet red, she was sure of it. “So, tea?”

 

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

 

Dana stood in the queue; the place had gotten more traffic as people filtered out of the nearby club. She hummed The Raincoats’ song since it was now in her head, substituting words fitting to her situation for the lyrics:

 

_But don’t worry, honey, don’t worry_

_This is just a fairytale_

_Happening in the Chelsea chip shop_

 

This really was a fairytale, and she looked back at Stella to confirm she was there, a proverbial pinch to herself.

 

Once she got their drinks, she brought them back to the table. “You all know what you’re doing with tea over here. I can’t get enough,” praised Dana. “How do you take it?” She pushed the little metal pitcher of milk toward Stella.

 

“Fix it for me,” Stella said, a hint of a dare in her voice. “However you make it.”

 

Of course this flustered Dana, but she persevered, pouring the milk in slowly to get the right color—or what she thought to be the right color. Then she put two teaspoons of sugar in, hesitated, looked to Stella who was of no help, a solid poker face set in her features, and added a dash more. She stirred it and pushed it back in front of Stella, who sipped it once, poker face still in place, then another. “This is a proper cup of English tea,” she declared, much to Dana’s relief. “Well done, you.” Dana made a little bow of her head and they both laughed.

 

The next time Dana checked her watch, she regrettably conceded that she had to head back. A somberness fell over their little table; neither of them wanted the night to end. They left two empty teacups and chip baskets and went outside into the brisk night air. The temperature seemed to have dropped quite a bit.

 

Dana looked up the street one way and then the other. “The tube you want is that way,” Stella said, pointing. “I’m taking the bus.” She pointed in the opposite direction, a frown on her face.

 

“Okay, thanks,” said Dana, and they both stood there staring at each other, making no move to leave.

 

There was no way to tell who leaned into who first, there was a difference of only a split second. Their lips met. Dana kept her eyes half-open. Stella made a soft humming sound. It was a perfect first kiss.   

 

First kisses can often lead to more and this one fell into that category. Stella pushed Dana back so they were no longer in the middle of the sidewalk. Dana made a little whimper when her back bumped up against the brick wall of a storefront, the firm pressure of Stella’s lips guiding the movement. The deepened kiss surged seamlessly into full-fledged making out, complete with wandering hands groping at asses and breasts. “Come home with me,” Stella breathed out against Dana’s mouth.

 

Dana groaned. Oh, how she wanted to. “My sister’ll freak,” she whispered, her fingers threading through Stella’s hair. She plunged her tongue back past Stella’s lips.

 

“Fecking dykes,” spat a surly passerby, and even in their passioned frenzy, the girls heard him. That had clearly been the man’s intent.

 

Stella pulled back, saw the hurt look on Dana’s face, and turned toward the direction of the man who was sauntering away. “Oi!” He spun around, surprised she had the nerve to call him out. “Suck my dick!” yelled Stella with complete confidence and conviction.

 

Dana’s eyes grew wide and she instinctively took a step forward to stand next to Stella instead of staying behind her, warily watching the man, trying to gauge what he would do.

 

“What’d you say?” he said, stumbling back; he was noticeably pissed.

 

“I said, bloody choke on it, arsehole.” Stella enunciated each word so her message was clear. Dana put her hand on Stella’s arm, afraid she might charge him. He shuffled closer to them, his inebriation taking away most of the threat, but Stella canted anyway, causing him to flinch. Satisfied with his display of cowardice, Stella turned back to Dana, grinning proudly, then linked their arms and started walking her to the tube entrance.    

 

Dana glanced over her shoulder and saw the gobsmacked drunk standing there, unsteady, watching them leave. She put her arm up and extended her middle finger for a parting gesture.

 

***

 

Melissa eyed Dana over her coffee cup. Her sister had a shiny new cheeriness to her aura and she wanted the details. Dana was never one to be forthcoming with her feelings and although the two of them were close, they didn’t share a whole lot of personal stuff. She had been asleep when Dana got back the night before, half-waking to ask how her night was, to which Dana had replied dreamily, “Best night of my life.”

 

“So?”

 

“What?” Dana asked, her mouth full.

 

“Best night of your life?”

 

She shrugged sheepishly; she had forgotten she said that last night. “The band was rad.” Hoping that would mollify her sister she took another bite of her fried egg. But Missy kept staring at her with this knowing look. “I met someone. A girl. She’s really cool. Likes the same music as me and stuff.”

 

Melissa nodded. “Cool.” Finally, she dropped her scrutiny of Dana and cut a piece of the sausage link on their shared plate.

 

Without her sister carefully regarding her, Dana found it easier to say what she did next. “We kissed.”

 

Missy looked up, surprised. “For real?”

 

Dana bit her lip, a wide grin forming. “My stomach still flip flops every time I think about it.” She couldn’t help gushing.

 

“Aaaw, Dane,” cooed Melissa. “That’s so sweet.”

 

“I’m gonna meet up with her later when she gets off work,” Dana said, adding under her breath, “and stay the night at her place.” She looked away, taking an avoiding sip of her tea.

 

“Sleep over? Are her parents okay with that?”  


“She lives on her own. Well, she has a roommate, but...yeah.”

 

“Dana.” Her name came out as a warning.

 

“Melissa,” she responded, mocking her.

 

Missy sat back and crossed her arms in front of her. Dana hated when she acted like her mother; she was only two years older than her, for Christ's sake. “Would you feel more comfortable if you met her? See that she’s not a serial killer? I’m meeting her by her work, some fancy restaurant near the Thames-like-gems.” That’s what the two of them had been calling the iconic river that snaked through London because they couldn’t remember how to pronounce it.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Melissa said, giving in. She didn’t often see her sister this happy and carefree; she was always so serious, focused on her schoolwork. And right now she could see she was practically head over heels for some British girl who lived on her own and worked at a fancy restaurant.

 

***

 

Stella easily passed muster with Melissa, and Dana was relieved that Missy hadn’t embarrassed her. Melissa even treated them to dinner before they headed back to Stella’s flat.

 

“Your sister’s cool,” Stella said. “I liked all that stuff about auras.”

 

“She’s into some pretty hippy-dippy shit. I don’t get it.”

 

“Yeah, you really epitomize the role of a skeptic,” teased Stella, playfully bumping her shoulder.

 

Dana grinned and shrugged. “I like facts, science, things that can be explained.”

 

“Can the existence of God be explained?” Stella asked, reaching over to thumb the gold cross at Dana’s neck.

 

“No,” she sighed; faith versus science had always been a point of contention for her. “I suppose I, myself, am unexplainable.”

 

“I would agree with that. You are ...enigmatic, Miss Scully.”

 

Dana smiled shyly and looked out the window of the bus, unable to handle the compliment and the intensity of Stella’s gaze.

 

When they got to Stella’s flat, her roommate, Alesha was sat in the living room watching _Top of the Pops._ Stella introduced them as Echo & The Bunnymen performed “The Back of Love” on the screen.

 

The three of them hung out for about an hour before Alesha left to meet friends. They taught Dana how to play Scabby Queen which was basically Old Maid. Alesha had a faint Carribean accent and an impressive afro which looked like it was a hold-over from the 70s, but with the girl’s youthful face and edgy makeup, it was entirely stylish and fresh and modern. Dana felt considerably uncool around them both—they exuded a confidence that Dana admired.

 

After Alesha left, Dana’s feeling of insecurity increased. They were alone. And while this excited her, she couldn’t stop the anxious thoughts that swam around her head. What if she did or said something daft or juvenile?

 

Stella must’ve picked up on it. “Are you nervous?” she asked, eyeing her from the kitchen where she was putting the deck of cards away. Dana was browsing the small bookshelf in the adjoining living room, her head tilted to read the spines. She looked back at Stella and shrugged.

 

“Why?” pressed Stella.

 

 _God, she’s so direct,_ Dana thought. It was unnerving. She made a gradual about-face, shrugging again. When she met Stella’s clear blue eyes, she softened, embracing her own awkwardness. She would drop the posturing—she wanted to share honesty with her, nothing less. “You’re like my dream girl,” Dana admitted, “too good to be true.”

 

The corner of Stella’s lips curved up very slightly. She came into the living room and sat on the sofa, shifting to face Dana, to keep her observant gaze on her. “I assure you I am very real. Very human with a whole host of issues and neuroses.”

 

Dana chewed her lip and tucked her hair behind her ear. The space next to Stella on the couch was wide open and inviting, but she still couldn’t bring herself to make a move. There was a milkcrate of albums next to the record player by the television, and she decided to check that out instead.

 

“Put something on,” Stella said.

 

Dana pulled each sleeve up to see the covers. Maybe if she found just the right music it would relax her ...or energize her—she wasn’t sure what kind of encouragement she needed at the moment. As soon as she saw David Bowie’s face with the painted lightning bolt, she knew that was the album, particularly Side 2 with “The Prettiest Star” and the decidedly bold “Let’s Spend the Night Together.” But it was thinking ahead to the final track that made her flush all over. “Lady Grinning Soul” was seductive and dripping with lustful desire. She felt her stomach knot up, but she put the record on anyway, straightaway with Side 2.

 

“Ah,” Stella exhaled in approval when she heard the beginning piano notes. Dana turned around to see her leaning forward, her hands in a cigar box on the coffee table, rolling a joint—she thought she had smelled that distinct odor. “Do you smoke?” she asked, snaking her tongue out to moisten the paper.

 

“Not really,” answered Dana, getting closer to the couch. “Cigarettes sometimes.”

 

“Come sit.” She motioned to that cozy spot next to her. Dana sat. Close. She made sure their knees were touching. The flame from the lighter sparked and Stella took a hit. “Open your mouth,” she directed with her breath still sucking in.

 

Again, Dana obeyed; she leaned into Stella and parted her lips like she did when she took Communion. Stella breathed the smoke into Dana, their lips almost but not quite meeting amidst the shared haze. Dana inhaled, slowly and deeply, then Stella put her finger to her lips. “Hold it in.”

 

It was easy for Dana to hold it in; she was caught, trancelike, in the smoky pools of Stella’s eyes, forgetting even the involuntary act of breathing. She did breathe, though, when Stella reminded her to, an amused smile on her face. They sat back and passed the joint between them until it was a tiny roach that Stella tossed, unceremoniously, back into the cigar box.

 

Like their first kiss, there was a mutual coming together; the beginnings of it evaporated away with the last bit of lingering smoke. Dana tried to think of it but whatever logistics led up to their current passionate embrace had been deleted from her mind like a file off of a hard drive. It didn’t matter how, of course, what mattered was Stella’s lips were pressed against hers, her tongue, smoky-sweet, was sliding around her own.

 

Who initiated the kiss was unknown, but Stella was definitely the one in charge of it. She left Dana’s lips, wet and swollen, and trailed more kisses down her neck, her hands traipsing Dana’s curves. Dana had her hands on Stella’s arms to steady herself, she was swept under so completely that was all she could do. And, she wasn’t sure if it was the weed, but everything seemed to be in slow motion. The feeling might’ve alarmed her in any other circumstance, but if time were to slow for her she would want it to be this moment.

 

Stella’s hand traveled from Dana’s breast down, fingers fluttering along her ribcage, to the waist of her jeans. Deftly, she undid the button fly one-handed. Dana’s breath hitched and Stella’s hand stilled. She lifted her head from the place where she was nibbling at Dana’s collarbone, making eye contact as best she could with the stoned and lust-ridden lover beneath her. “Have you done this before? With a girl?”

 

Dana nodded and had an unfortunate flash of the sophomore she had dated who had broken her heart after a couple of months saying she was just a fun experiment.

 

“Have you been with a guy?”

 

She shook her head. “Have you?” Dana asked, her voice hoarse.

 

“Yeah. It’s good with guys, but I like it with girls better.”

 

Bowie’s words floated perfectly into the void space that followed Stella’s statement:

 

_She’ll come, she’ll go, she’ll lay belief on you_

_Skin sweet with musky odor_

_The lady from another grinning soul_

 

Stella grinned, followed closely by Dana. “You chose this album on purpose, didn’t you?”

 

Dana laughed—it was a breathy laugh, one that had no beginning and no end, and it felt separate from herself but also an extension of her soul. Stella made a display of shrewdly listening to the next lyrics.

 

_And when the clothes are strewn, don’t be afraid of the room_

_Touch the fullness of her breast, feel the love of her caress_

_She will be your living end_

 

“I’m onto you, Dana Scully, you cheeky minx.”

 

Dana’s laughter faded into a lilting chuckle. “Good.”

 

“I think David Bowie wants us to get naked.”

 

“Yes,” Dana said. “I do, too.”

 

“So the three of us are in agreement?”

 

Dana doubled over laughing. How could the situation be so funny and so sexy at the same time? Her nerve endings were on fire from the heat that their passion had ignited, and everything out of Stella’s mouth was hilarious to her. Why had she always thought that sex and intimacy had to be serious? Being with Stella was eye-opening in more ways than one.

 

“All right, Giggles, let’s move it to the bedroom,” prompted Stella, helping Dana up.

 

They undressed themselves under the watchful eyes of the other. Shirts went up over heads, pants were shimmied down hips, bras unclasped, They stood before each other nude, the light in Stella’s bedroom on, hiding nothing. Dana had never bared herself like this to anyone before, and she felt a surge of self-empowerment, but also a reverence that Stella was allowing her to see her this way, too.

 

Time was spent just touching each other, their fingers, lips, tongues roaming and exploring. Between the high and her arousal, Dana’s skin felt extra sensitive; every point of contact sent warmth and tingling throughout her body.

 

Having traveled every square inch of Dana, Stella couldn’t wait any longer, she wanted to touch inside her. She cupped Dana’s sex, finding her auburn curls damp, and slipped a finger through her swollen folds, then another, and a third. She was so slick yet tight. Dana moaned long and loud as Stella pumped in and out of her. She made a come hither motion and found the cushiony spot deep inside her; she strummed and stroked, watching Dana climb toward the precipice where she would free fall into ecstasy.

 

“Oh Stella, god, yes, yesss.” There was a sheen of sweat on her skin, her cheeks pink, eyes squeezed shut. She mewled Stella’s name one more time, then her mouth formed an O and her body went stiff. There was a moment of silence, seconds of calm before the storm of her orgasm, and when her breath came back to her she sharply cried out.

 

Stella continued the movement of her hand but softer, gentle, letting Dana ride out the pleasure. She watched her lick her lips, take a few lenitive breaths, and then blink her eyes open. “You’re really beautiful when you come,” said Stella, and then covered Dana’s mouth with hers, not letting her shy away from the compliment this time.

 

Dana felt limp, like the climax had taken everything out of her, but she was revived by the soft gesture. Awakened by true love’s kiss or something like that—romanticized thoughts swirled in her brain among the pleasurable chaos made up of the cannabis and sex-induced euphoria. She pushed Stella up and rolled her onto her back; she wanted to display these feelings, paint them all over her body; a lick at the hollow of her throat, a kiss against her breastbone, a light graze of her teeth around a nipple.

 

Dana sucked on the outer curve of Stella’s breast, then made her way down, dipping her tongue in her belly button before nuzzling her nose between her thighs. Was it the munchies or the intoxicating scent of Stella’s arousal that made her ravenous? Whatever it was, Dana knew that Stella’s pussy was the only thing that would satisfy her hunger right now, and she licked along her warm, wet folds, lightly at first, to tease herself.

 

The airy gasp that passed by Stella’s lips was heaven to her and she laved at her sex with abandon to see what other sounds she could get from her. Dana savored her essence—it danced across her palate, effervescent, like carbonated, nectarous silk—the taste, improbably, like the sweet, milky tea she loved so much.

 

Stella’s hips started to rock against her mouth as she neared her release. Dana reached up to palm her boobs. She whimpered; the contact on her hardened nipples and now Dana’s mouth sucking firmly on her clit were her final undoing. Stella made a delicate high-pitched grunt when she came, and Dana smiled against her pulsing center.

 

Stella sighed blissfully as Dana crawled back up to lie down next to her, tucking herself into the crook of Stella’s outstretched arm. “You taste like tea,” Dana admitted, and Stella erupted with a spirited belly-laugh.

 

“Are you hinting that you would like some now or was my tasty cunt enough to quench your thirst?”

 

Dana hummed. “You would always be enough, but if you’re offering I would definitely accept.”

 

“Yes, a post-coital cuppa sounds perfect,” said Stella, getting out of bed. She shrugged on a silk robe. “And I have some chocolate biscuits, I think.” Her eyes lit up at that thought and she flashed Dana a bright smile.

 

“This night just keeps getting better and better.” Dana found her underwear on the floor and put them on. Grabbing one of Stella’s t-shirts instead of her own, she followed her out to the kitchen, slipping it on over her head.

 

Stella put the kettle on and searched around in the cupboard for the cookies. Dana’s eyes were trained on her every movement—she could barely believe she was here, in this enchanting foreign land, just brought to orgasm at the hand of this bewitching goddess and the taste of her still lingering on her tongue.

 

Stella placed a plate in the middle of the table. “I have Jammie Dodgers, too,” she said, and Dana fell a little bit more in love.

 

She chose the sandwich cookie over the chocolate one purely based upon the very British name and how it spilled so elegantly from Stella’s lips. The raspberry filling was sweet and tart, and would go deliciously with the tea Stella was preparing. Stella stood over the two cups that were steaming and steeping away, a far off look in her eyes.

 

“I was about to say ‘penny for your thoughts’ but you don’t have pennies over here. Should I say ‘pence for your thoughts’ or how about a pound?”

 

“You’d pay a whole pound for my thoughts?” asked Stella.

 

“I’d pay much more than that.”

 

Stella smiled. She had been thinking about how she was dreading Dana leaving London at the end of the week, but she didn’t want to talk about that. “We have pennies,” she said instead.

 

“Oh? I thought that was a pence.”

 

“Pence is plural for penny.”

 

Dana nodded, soaking up the Anglo-Saxon knowledge. “I’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

 

“You will. You’re a quick study.” She nimbly plucked the tea bags from the mugs with her fingers and went about fixing them both with milk and sugar. Stella sat and they had their tea and late-night snack, mutually adoring each other from across the table.

 

Later, they made love again, Stella straddling Dana, legs scissored in hot connection. Their hands were clasped above Dana’s head with their pinkies tightly linked like a promise was flowing between them, its exact nature vague but magical, sealing an unspoken bond.

 

Dana awoke the next morning with a warm hand on her breast. “What a way to wake up,” she murmured, her voice gravelly with sleep.

 

Stella lifted her head from Dana’s shoulder. “I love your tits.” She tenderly squeezed and ran her fingertips along the underside of her curves. “They’re so ...comforting.”

 

“Comforting? Is that a compliment?” wondered Dana.

 

“Of course it is.”

 

“I don’t know. I think I’d want to have tits so spectacular that they drive others to madness,” she said, shifting so she could reciprocate the thoughtful caress. “Like yours.”

 

“Nah,” intoned Stella. “Yours are perfect.” She moved to rest her head between them, Dana’s skin warm against her cheek. “I want to live right here. I’d be happy and safe.”

 

Dana softly combed her fingers through Stella’s hair, wanting with her whole heart for Stella to always be happy and safe. Tears stung behind her eyes and she was glad that Stella couldn’t see her, but, surely, the heavy, thudding heartbeat at her chest had already given away all the emotion she was feeling.

 

***

 

They spent the remaining days together, which wasn’t long enough, yet they were both at the point of infatuation where even forever wouldn’t feel long enough. When it came time for Dana to leave, they exchanged phone numbers and addresses. They would call and they would write for a while, but eventually, lose touch. And although they spent such a brief time together, they would both think of the other as their first love.

 

As the years went on, they would collect thoughts and hold onto memories. Dana would grace the pages of Stella’s dream journal every now and then. Stella would feel a twinge in her chest at a reference to Moby Dick. Dana would wonder what Stella ended up studying. Did she get those hundred degrees? What would they think of each other going into the same line of work? Any time Dana fixed a cup of tea the English way she would be taken back. Any time Stella passed a chip shop she would hum The Raincoats. A song about stars could stop both of them dead in their tracks.

 

And then one day, Dana would tell the love of her life, father of her child, about her punk years, her summer trip to London, and her first love.

**Author's Note:**

> In loving memory of Diamond Lil
> 
> London Holiday Soundtrack:  
> (Shayna, I hope you don’t totally hate post-punk music. If you do, I am deeply sorry, and hopefully, it doesn’t take away from the story 😬)
> 
> Love in a Void - Siouxsie and the Banshees  
> Oh Bondage, Up Yours - X-Ray Spex  
> Disorder - Joy Division  
> Ghost Town - The Specials  
> Lust for Life - Iggy Pop  
> Shallow Then Halo - Cocteau Twins  
> Wax and Wane - Cocteau Twins  
> Rockwrok - Ultravox  
> Fairytale in the Supermarket - The Raincoats  
> The Back of Love - Echo & The Bunnymen  
> Lady Grinning Soul - David Bowie
> 
> Link to the playlist on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/user/wvfaxcspt9a9wtfrbj6ovjbs3/playlist/2gG7bZNitowHUkS2CiWgIu?si=BDy6BNrzQLuhNVbJeyKGQQ


End file.
